Unicorn's Reclamation: Brujería's Containers for Multidimensionality

"I'm so tired of being different," I told my friends through tears during the pandemic.

I didn't realize I was a unicorn until the pandemic forced me to stop moving.

Before March 2020, I was too busy living to notice how different my life had become.

But when everything stopped—when I had to stay home, stay still, stay with myself—I started looking at my life as if I were an outsider.

And I saw it: how unique my lifestyle choices were, how divergent my identities, how wildly my trajectory had veered from everyone I knew who was also in their mid-to-late thirties.

My peers were married, raising children, climbing corporate ladders or settling into stable careers.

And I was... none of those things. Childfree. Marriage-free. PhD-holding but corporate-fleeing.

Neither fully American nor fully Dominican.

Too structured for the spiritual folks, too mystical for the business world.

 I didn't want to be a unicorn. I wanted to blend in.

I wanted to want the things people thought I should have—to be a wife, a mother, to find satisfaction in a stable job.

But as the years passed and those yearnings never came, as I realized I no longer enjoyed my work, I found myself wanting what looked like a renaissance woman's life after she'd already raised her children and gotten divorced.

Except I was too young in face and age to already want retirement.

Retirement felt like way too long to wait to figure out who else I could be.

So in the safety of the pandemic—when the only requirement was staying away from other people—I used that time to stay with myself. And that's when everything began to shift.

When Spirituality Isn't Enough to Hold You

At first, I did what people say you're supposed to do when you're trying to "find yourself."

Therapy. Books. Journaling. Long walks. All the mental health practices deemed good for you.

And they helped—for a while.

But then there came a point where those tools couldn't hold the capacity of how fast I was growing.

I was consistently outgrowing myself, outgrowing people at such a rapid pace that I didn't know what could contain me.

Traditional spirituality felt passive. Meditate and things will come. Journal and you'll find clarity.

Go to therapy and process your wounds.

But none of it gave me a framework for what to do with all these versions of myself that kept emerging.

None of it told me how to hold space for:

• The PhD holder who studied something she didn't love to practice
• The Dominican who felt Americanized
• The corporate consultant who wanted to create art
• The ambitious woman who craved deep rest
• The childfree woman who wanted a legacy
• The light-skinned Latina doing race work
• The business strategist who tracked moon cycles

I wasn't fragmented because something was broken.

I was multidimensional because that's how I was designed.

But I didn't have containers strong enough to hold all of it.

The Creative Awakening—Learning I Could Have Multiple Colors

Everything shifted in early 2024 when I healed my throat chakra wound around visibility and expression.

I started writing blogs. I started showing up more seriously on social media.

I started sharing instead of hiding.

But the real breakthrough came through The Artist's Way and what I now call my Creative Awakening.

That work gave me permission to be multidimensional—to pursue astrophysics and piano lessons and watercolor painting, even though none of it seemed "related to my business."

I watched how parents pour into their children in multidimensional ways—music lessons, sports, art classes, science camps—and I realized: I want that. I want that as an adult.

I never got the chance to be multidimensional as a kid because all my focus was on academics.

So I decided to give that to myself now.

And as I started pouring into these different interests, I had a realization that changed everything:

What if I looked at my identities like colors on a palette?

I could have multiple colors on my canvas. The question wasn't whether the colors belonged together—it was what painting I wanted to make.

I started using AI to help me reframe. Instead of asking "What's wrong with me?" I asked: "What are the strengths of having all these identities? What do I get to see about society because of these lenses?"

That's when I started wiping my canvas clean and deciding what I wanted to paint.

And a different picture started emerging—one that was more intuitive, more whole.

Here's what I mean by multiple colors...

Wheel of Privilege: These are the identities you're holding...

Wheel of Life: These are the domains you're navigating...

With these tools, I started seeing my unicorn self being expressed through my life.

But seeing it wasn't enough. I needed to reclaim it.

I needed to move from resisting my difference to embodying it. And that's where brujería came in.

Brujería is the technology that lets you hold ALL of it without fragmenting.

Brujería as the Technology of Reclamation

Here's what I've learned about the difference between spirituality and brujería:

• Spirituality is passive. You meditate, you journal, you process, you reflect. You wait for alignment, for downloads, for things to shift.
• Brujería is active. You create rituals. You mix elements. You work with the unseen. You build containers. You make the shift happen.

Spirituality gave me awareness. Brujería gave me technology.

Over the past two years, I've built a practice of brujería that creates space for everything happening within me and outside of me:

• Queen's Day: One day every week that is just for me, centered entirely around my desires and needs.
• Chakra-organized days: I organize my week by chakra energy—each day has an inherent liberated frequency that guides what I focus on (here's a whole blog about it).
• Cycle and moon tracking: I started tracking my menstrual cycle and the lunar cycles this year, doing rituals around new moons and full moons to work with cosmic timing instead of against it.
• Morning pages: For a year and a half, I've been writing three pages every morning—clearing the channel, making space for what wants to come through.
• Daily meditation: Nearly two years of sitting with myself, not to transcend my humanity but to integrate it.

These aren't just "self-care practices." They're rituals of reclamation, of what I call self-adoración. They're how I actively create containers strong enough to hold all my colors, all my identities, all my dimensions.

Because here's what I now understand: being a unicorn isn't about accepting that you're different. It's about building a life architecture that honors your multidimensionality instead of fragmenting it.

Brujería is what gave me that architecture. It's the technology that allowed me to stop asking "What's wrong with me?" and start asking "What painting do I want to create with all these colors?"

It's how I moved from grief about being different to power in being whole.

It's how I stopped resisting the unicorn and started embodying it.

Reflection Questions for You

• When did you first realize you were a unicorn—that you didn't fit the standard templates? What did that realization feel like? Grief? Relief? Both?

• What "acceptable" tools have you been using to try to make sense of yourself (therapy, journaling, meditation)—and where have you outgrown them? What capacity are they unable to hold?

• Look at these wheels. Which identities and life domains are you trying to keep separate? What would happen if you let them touch?"

• What active rituals or containers would you need to build to hold your full multidimensionality? What would brujería look like in your life?

• Where are you still resisting your unicorn nature instead of reclaiming it? What would embodiment look like instead?